


Skinny Love

by drinkginandkerosene



Series: Skinny Love [2]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood is colouring his bile, and Peter can't find it in himself to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Love

It wasn’t just bile that splattered the pale porcelain anymore. Now, there were specks of blood dotted here and there too. Peter wondered vaguely if it was from his throat or his stomach. His throat felt raw enough, like he’d be swallowing sand and glass, not pills and water. But then, his stomach too cramped, and sometimes swelled, revolting at the abuse of chemicals. Peter didn’t care. He didn’t care about very much at all. When the bloating happened, he just lay on his side, rubbing his stomach, his fat, wishing it away as though thought alone could melt the flesh off his bones. And bones there were. Peter had always looked thin, but now he looked sick. It wasn’t just the prominence either. His skin was covered in small bruises. His healing rate, once so enhanced appeared to be slowing down, unable to mend the smallest of ailments. Dark circles under his eyes. Sleep had been replaced by Spiderman duty entirely. Sometimes he fell asleep in the day, lying on the couch of his small apartment he usually shared with Wade. Wade had thought it adorable. Now he thought it worrying how hard it was to wake the boy up. Peter knew none of his partner’s worrying. He had numbers on his mind, more so than usual. The genius who once turned all his time to trying to solve massive problems, simply added and subtracted all day, and raged when the number was too big and the boy too weak.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and Peter, with a mighty effort, pulled his head up, eyes avoiding the mirror, and being drawn to the scale.

“Yes?”

“Petey, are you alright? You didn’t eat your –“

“I know Wade.” Peter drew a hand across his forehead, looking at the beads of sweat. Good. He could lose some water weight like this. “I’m not feeling too well.”

There was a beat, a pause. “Again? Peter, please go to the doctor, I’m begging now-“

“No! No. What if he looks at my messed up blood and realises I’m not normal?” Peter heard a shifting at the door and knew Wade was leaning against it. The strain between the two was palpable. Peter was sorry, but he was also tired. If Wade wanted too, he could just leave. He wouldn’t blame him. Peter would leave himself too.

“Let me in. Please. Let me in.” It was the please that did it. Peter flushed the toilet, wiped his mouth and struggled to his feet, feeling that rush of dizziness that almost sent him back to the floor. It had the first few times he got it. Now, he was used to it. He unlocked the door, allowing Wade to pick him up as though he was six, and take him to bed. Wade was murmuring, and Peter thought it was to the voices in his head before he realised it was to him.

“Please don’t leave me.” 

Peter was too exhausted to reply. He just wanted to sleep. So he fell asleep, while Wade cried next to him.


End file.
